Hot cider and crisp air; my soul is soothed and chilled.
What a glorious paradox.
I bop along crowded Central Square sidewalks,
on this first Sunday of Fall.
Squeezing my paper cup between my fingers, I
anticipate the joy of rejoining my friends,
the reverberation of hallelujahs, the choir of
‘Amazing Grace’ at Cambridge Rehab.
I realize on this walk, with my mind I talk,
and bounce my thoughts off the ruffling of leaves,
squirrels scampering away from bicycles, and
pitter-patter of pages flipping on benches:
that beyond the glory of my hot cider,
greater than the ruffling of gentle wind
soaring through my grey parka, is the glory
of my friendships with the elderly.
See- as Autumn marks the departure of
budding leaves from their branches,
mustard seeds of compassion are planted
in a Sunday mass at the nursing home.
Within the casings of the mustard seed,
miniscule and timid in its being,
love is abundant and profound.
What a glorious paradox.
I put down that delicious cider,
tug on the hand of my old pal, Al,
and listen like an eager child
to the highlights of his week,
chocolate sprinkles on vanilla ice cream,
a decent entertainer in the day room
and a warm tuna salad with some extra mayo
(Al’s favorite lunch).
“I’ll see you next week”.
Walking along those same Central Square sidewalks,
my bop is less of a bop, but more of a stroll .
I notice a family reading on the damp grass,
and a circle of intellects, on cell-phones and laptops
giving into the temptation of capitalism, of
apathy and failing to connect.
I slowly sip the last of my cider, inching
the paper cup to my chapped lips.
I smirk- my hands carry the scent of piping cider,
and tuna salad
(Al’s favorite lunch).
Ash Uss, Boston MA
Community of Sant’Egidio | October 4, 2016
USA Youth for Peace 